


Glutton for Punishment

by meiloslyther



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Biting, D/s, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:29:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meiloslyther/pseuds/meiloslyther
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a masochist, and has an itch no one's been able to scratch- yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glutton for Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> So this was actually inspired by the scene at the end of Bloodlust (2x03) and various other hints at Dean's masochism throughout the series (that may or may not just be my imagination, but whatevs).

            It started off as just any other ordinary shower brush. Dean had the thing for years; he couldn't even remember if he'd stolen it or not. It was made of smooth blond wood with a long handle, making it easy for Dean to reach every part of his back, and a large, round head full of boar hair bristles that weren't too soft or too coarse. It was one of his few prized personal possessions, even if Sam did occasionally make fun of him for it with a playful grin.

            He was maybe eighteen or nineteen when he ended up in the shower with some girl one night between playing loyal son and protective older brother. She decided to use the flat back of the brush head to slap his ass a few times and… well, he couldn't look at the thing the same way again.

            It eventually turned into something he regularly included in his bedroom activities - there were nights in the bars when he'd specifically pick up the kinkier looking chicks just so he wouldn't get funny looks when he practically begged them to spank him. Sometimes he even forewent the brush for just their hand. Sometimes there was the occasional guy with large, calloused hands and well-muscled arms. But no matter who he picked up, it never seemed like enough. From the lightest of taps that left him wanting more to the hardest smacks that he didn't ever want to end; he'd get off, sure, but he still felt unfulfilled when his toy of the night redressed and left the room, like somehow they'd missed the one spot that would unhinge him completely.

            And yeah, he was young when he discovered this kink, but he probably should have seen it coming. From the few times Dad had smacked him around and he'd been left feeling more confused than remorseful, or as he got older, getting his ass kicked on a hunt and having to tame a hard-on before he embarrassed himself in front of Dad or Sam. If anything, he at least should have anticipated how it would affect the rest of his life.

            Dad smacked him across the back of the head after one hunt when he let a spirit get a little too rough with him, his shotgun still smoking. "You askin' to get your ass beat, Dean?"

            Dean could feel the blood trickling down his face, and he tried his damnedest not to smile as he looked his dad in the eye. "No, sir."

            Dad just shook his head and turned back towards their vehicles. Dean knew if Sam had been there, he would have called his bluff, but the little fucker had run off over a year earlier to go to college. Sometimes he missed Sam being there, being that stubborn pain in Dean's ass, but he definitely didn't mind the privacy he had without him. Sam was too smart for his own good, and if Dean didn't know better, he'd say Sam had already figured him out.

            Years later when he was back to hunting with Sam again after Dad's death, Dean had firmly decided that Sam either didn't care that his brother was a kinky bastard or he seriously hadn't noticed, and Dean was shooting for the latter. In fact, Sam hadn't poked fun at him for the shower brush since Stanford - of course, he'd matured in four years, so it wasn't that much of a surprise.

            Although in hindsight, if Sam hadn't noticed by then and Dean didn't want him to know, maybe Dean shouldn't have been so obvious about it. Of course, Dean was beyond fucked in the head ever since he'd hit puberty, especially when it came to his brother, no matter how much he tried to repress it.

            "Sam?"

            "Yeah?"

            Dean planted his feet firmly in the dirt just outside the vampires' old farmhouse and readied himself to take a hit. He was already bloody and bruised from dealing with Gordon, but it had been a while - what with Dad dying and restoring the Impala - and he was riding the high and… he just couldn't help himself, really. "Clock me one."

            Sam stared at him. "What?"

            "Come on. I won't even hit you back. Let's go."

            Sam looked at him like he was insane. He probably was. "No."

            "Let's go, you get a freebie. Hit me, come on."

            Sam waved him off, turning to walk back to the car. "You look like you just went twelve rounds with a block of cement, Dean."

            Yeah, like that's ever stopped Sam before. He was really going to pull this now?

            "I'll take a rain check."

            Dean knew his brother well enough to hear the grin in his voice. The little shit was teasing him. This whole time Dean thought Sam didn't know, but this was proof positive that he definitely did, and here he was denying Dean the instant gratification, but practically promising it in the same breath. Dean frowned in disappointment, trying to push the thought of Sam hitting him later from his mind, and followed him to the car.

 

***

 

            It wasn't one of Dean's prouder moments, but after a week of absolutely nothing - no hunts, no signs of the demon, just bumfuck nowhere, skeezy bars with even skeezier patrons, and cheap backwoods motels - he was one shitty lay away from just dropping to his knees and begging Sam to hit him. As it was, he was ready to coerce Sam into hitting him anyway, with whatever means necessary.

            "Sam, time to cash in on your rain check, man. Get over here and hit me."

            Sam looked up from the TV and cocked an eyebrow at Dean. "Really?"

            "Do I look like I'm joking? Quit screwing around with me, come on."

            "Are you having that hard of a time getting laid?"

            Dean wasn't expecting that comeback and fumbled, unsure how to respond. "…N-no. What? What's that got to do with this?" He knew Sam knew, but he still wanted to deny it on principle.

            "You think I haven't noticed? Dude, I know you get off on pain. You can't hide something like that from me."

            "…You never said anything."

            Sam huffed, looking back at the TV. "Was I supposed to? I didn't think it was a big deal, so I let it go."

            Dean could only stare at Sam in disbelief with a hint of desperation. He was honestly going to start begging if Sam didn't get up and do something in the next ten seconds.

            Sam must have felt Dean's eyes on him, as he looked back up at him. Sighing, he stood up and walked across the room to stand in front of Dean. Dean rolled his shoulders back and set his jaw, more than ready.

            "Where is it?"

            "Where is what?"

            "You know what I'm talking about, Dean. Where is it?"

            Dean almost didn't want to believe it. Sam wanted to… use the brush on him? Dean was getting hard just imagining it. "You- you mean-"

            "The brush, Dean. Where. Is. It."

            "In my duffel."

            Dean felt Sam's hand on his belt buckle and glanced down just as Sam unfastened it with one hand. Sam pulled open the button on Dean's jeans and made Dean look back up at him with his free hand.

            "Take these off," Sam ordered, tugging at a belt loop. He turned then and went to Dean's duffel, searching through it for the shower brush.

            Dean unzipped his jeans and let them drop without question. It was only after he'd tugged off his shirt and was standing in the middle of the room in only his boxer-briefs that he realized he was about to let his baby brother spank him and he was going to enjoy every second of it. He was seriously messed up in the head.

            Although, when Sam turned back to him, shower brush in hand and a look in his eyes that meant serious business, Dean couldn't care less about the consequences. He needed this, and if Sam wanted to give it to him- well, he'd been in more compromising situations.

            Sam eyed Dean up and down before looking pointedly at Dean's underwear. Dean could feel his pulse in his ears as he hooked his fingers in the waistband and pushed them down as well. Slowly, Sam approached Dean and grabbed his bicep, spinning him around until he faced the bed and bending him over it. Dean braced his hands on the bed and swallowed thickly as Sam nudged his feet apart.

            For a moment, Dean didn't know what was going to happen. Sam wasn't touching him, and he wasn't making a sound. This was probably the most vulnerable he'd ever been in his life. Suddenly, Sam's hand landed on Dean's lower back, making him shiver even though Sam's hand was warm.

            "Dean, relax. It's just me."

            Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam; he gave Dean a soft smile, spreading his fingers a little over Dean's skin. Dean let out a breath and nodded once before dropping his head.

            Sam pressed the cold wood of the shower brush against Dean's left ass cheek momentarily, just letting it rest there. In the next instant Dean felt more than heard the pop of it against his skin, sharp and stinging. It took him by surprise, but he didn't flinch, just took it stoically. He knew Sam could hit harder, but he almost didn't want him to- didn't need him to.

            As Sam fell into a pattern, Dean was able to anticipate the next hit, but each one still sent shocks of pleasurable pain up his spine and back down to his dick. Dean started off counting each one in his head, but he lost count the moment Sam migrated lower, hitting the spot where ass turned into thigh.

            Sam paused, and Dean realized he'd cried out.

            "Keep going."

            Sam didn’t hesitate, aiming for the same exact spot, only on the opposite side. Dean choked off another cry, pressing his face into his shoulder and biting his bottom lip. Sam didn't stop again, continuing lower to turn Dean's thighs pink before moving back up to his ass, already raw and sore.

            Dean had lost track of time by then, lost track of everything really, except for Sam's steady rhythm, the snap of wood against skin, and the slowly intensifying pain and pleasure. Without thinking, he lifted a hand to touch himself, to relieve just some of the pressure.

            "No."

            Dean hadn't even gotten his fingers around himself before Sam was pulling his arm behind his back and pinning it there. Dean wasn't sure if the sound he made was a sob of frustration or a moan.

            "Sam, Sammy, please. You're killing me here."

            "You can take a few more."

            Dean chanced a look at Sam over his shoulder; his eyes were dark, cheeks flushed slightly from exertion and, from the very obvious bulge in his jeans, arousal. Dean swallowed thickly; he'd fucked guys before, and he could honestly say that it wasn't half bad, but he'd never had anyone fuck him, and he wasn't sure if today was the day he wanted to start. However, if it was Sam who asked, and in his present condition…

            "If you can be good for ten more, you can fuck me."

            And, well, Dean wasn't expecting that one. His cock twitched at the thought, and he nodded quickly. He'd go to a special place in hell for doing this, but if Sam wanted it, well, he was an adult who could make his own damn decisions and Dean was not going to turn him down now. Sam let go of his arm, and Dean placed it back on the bed, dropping his head once more.

            The first one was much harder than all of the previous ones, and Dean actually flinched, hissing even as he dug his fingers into the sheets in pleasure. He should have known Sam would be merciless, with a deal like this. He braced himself for the next nine, and each one was just as hard as the last. His ass was going to be bruised for a week, and he was going to fuck Sam into next year.

            When Sam was done, Dean let his arms give out, and he collapsed face first onto the bed, shaking and so wound up he didn't think he was going to last very long once he was inside Sam. After a moment, he was able to move again and he stood carefully, turning to find Sam rummaging through his own duffel.

            Sam threw a tube of lube onto the bed when he returned and pressed a square of foil against Dean's chest, and Dean grabbed it before it fell to the floor. "I know you don't like using them, but better safe than sorry."

            Dean stared at the condom. "What, afraid I'll get you pregnant?" His voice was rough and shaky with the adrenaline running through him. He felt like a live wire, and he wanted to get his hands on Sam yesterday.

            Sam glared at him as he quickly undressed, but didn't respond.

            "Really? Dude, come on, I'm clean."

            Sam straightened up after taking off his underwear and raised his eyebrows at Dean. "You had sex with a complete stranger less than 24 hours ago. I'm not taking my chances."

            Dean thought about it; okay, so Sam had a point. "Fine, whatever."

            Sam crawled onto the bed and spread himself out in the middle of it, and if that wasn't an invitation, Dean didn't know what was. He was all hard muscle, and even though Dean was straight - okay, mostly straight - he could still appreciate Sam's beauty. Dean followed him and settled between his spread legs, grabbing the lube to quickly coat his fingers.

            "You can start with two," Sam muttered when Dean pressed one finger against his hole, rubbing around it in slow circles.

            Dean paused, looking up at Sam's face. "You've done this before?"

            "A few times, yeah."

            Dean felt a sudden jab of unexplained jealousy and pressed two fingers into Sam just to see him squirm; only, he didn't, just spread his legs a little further and pushed back against Dean's fingers, letting out a soft breath. Determined to work Sam up the way he did Dean, he twisted his fingers ruthlessly and curled them up, aiming for Sam's prostate.

            Sam let out a surprised groan, grabbing at the sheets and bucking against Dean's hand, searching for more. Dean easily worked in a third finger, spreading them inside Sam and smirking as he watched him slowly fall apart.

            "Come on, Dean."

            "You gonna beg for my cock, bitch?"

            Sam raised his eyebrows. "Do you want me to?"

            Dean shrugged, pulling his fingers out and getting the condom on. "Not really, I just wanted to see if you would."

            Sam watched Dean with an affronted expression as he spread lube on his cock. "Jerk."

            Dean grabbed the pillow beside Sam's head and stuffed it under Sam's hips before grabbing his right leg and hooking it over his shoulder. He looked Sam in the eye as he lined up and pushed into him, watching him throw his head back on a moan, exposing his neck. Dean leaned in and latched on just under Sam's ear, sucking a mark into his skin.

            "Oh, fuck." Sam's hands moved to grip Dean's biceps, fingers digging into his flesh.

            Dean chuckled softly against Sam's neck. "That good, huh? I haven't even started yet."

            Sam turned his head to nip at Dean's jaw, rolling his hips. "Just move already, asshat."

            "If you insist." Dean pulled out a little before thrusting in all the way, mouthing at Sam's neck.

            Sam gasped softly and dug his heel into Dean's back, his hips moving in time with Dean's as they fell into a rhythm. One of Sam's hands had migrated to grip Dean's shoulder blade, his short nails marking the skin. Dean shifted the angle after a moment, and Sam arched up when he hit his prostate dead on.

            "Man, that must be a new record."

            "Oh my god, Dean, shut up," Sam moaned, pressing his forehead into Dean's shoulder and clawing at his skin.

            Dean shivered as Sam's nails raked down his back. "Bite me."

            Sam did just that, sinking his teeth into the taut muscle of Dean's shoulder and clamping down. Dean groaned, his rhythm faltering for a second before he gripped Sam's left thigh and thrusted harder, coaxing a muffled noise from Sam. One hand still digging into Dean's back, Sam snaked the other down to his ass, slapping the bruised skin with his open palm.

            "Jesus, fuck, Sammy."

            Dean could feel Sam grinning, his teeth still embedded in Dean's shoulder. Reaching between them, Dean wrapped his free hand around Sam's cock, stroking in counterpoint to his brutal thrusts. Sam released Dean's shoulder on a gasp, arching up into Dean's hand. Dean went back to sucking on Sam's neck, putting all of his game on at once.

            "Dean, Dean," Sam chanted, scratching across Dean's back and digging his nails into Dean's ass, making him hiss.

            Dean was gonna lose it if Sam kept doing that. He pounded right into Sam's prostate, intent on making him come first if it was the last thing he did. "Come on, Sammy. Come for me."

            A few more thrusts and Sam's muscles contracted all at once, his teeth clamping down on the junction between Dean's neck and shoulder and his nails surely drawing blood from Dean's back. The groan he let out as he came was probably loud enough to be heard throughout the entire motel.

            Dean couldn't hold out any longer with all the sensations, slamming his hips against the back of Sam's thighs and coming with a growl. Dean collapsed on top of Sam after a moment, breathing heavily.

            "Are you that rough with everyone?" Sam panted, going limp with exhaustion.

            Dean knew he should move, but didn't really want to. "No, I just knew that I couldn't break you as easily." Taking what looked like a heroic effort, Dean pushed himself up and pulled out of Sam, watching him wince. "Are you that much of a cockslut with everyone?"

            Sam scrunched up his face in confusion. "What? You're the only guy I've ever had sex with, Dean."

            "You said you'd done this before."

            Sam studied Dean's face. "I meant I'd fingered myself before." He huffed, amused. "You were jealous."

            Dean got up to go clean himself off. "Why should I be jealous? I'm not jealous."

            Sam laughed, rolling off the bed to follow Dean to the bathroom and slapping his bruised ass.

            Dean hissed, backhanding Sam in the chest. "Fuck you, bitch."

            "You already did, jerk."

 

***

 

            It had barely been ten minutes since they'd set out from the motel the next morning, and Dean was already squirming behind the steering wheel, his ass bruised and sore. Sam started laughing when he noticed, his cheeks going pink.

            "Shut up, Sam."


End file.
